


Flickering Moments

by thekatthatbarks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aurors, F/M, M/M, POV Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekatthatbarks/pseuds/thekatthatbarks
Summary: Ron’s perspective as he strings together moments that led him to the conclusion Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were dating.





	Flickering Moments

                To nobody’s surprise, Ron and Harry had been made Auror partners after they completed their training. No one could deny they worked well together and they had already fought beside each other for so long, not many other people would be able to fill those shoes as well. But what Kingsley quickly learned after Ron had submitted his _third_ request for another partner in the first month, was that few people were able to get past their hero worship and star eyes to see Ron and Harry as _fellow_ aurors. It was just the best course of action to put them together as partners like they had wanted to from the beginning.

 

                It was because of their partnership that Ron got a firsthand view of the growing relationship between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

 

                It had been over four years since the war. Harry and Malfoy _had_ interacted before – _probably more than Ron knew_ – but this was the first moment he thought of when he tried to put together in his head when it had all started.

 

 ***

                They had only been surprised for maybe the first week that they didn’t get assigned the _big_ cases and get to chase after _dark_ wizards and were instead practically glued to their desk helping process paperwork for their senior aurors who got to have all the _fun_. The only action they ever got to see were patrols and after the excitement of finally being let out of the office wore off, Ron had to admit that wasn’t much of an upgrade. But when they had voiced their complaints to Hermione, she had knocked them off their _big heads off_ _their pedestals they let themselves be put on_ and reminded them they were _lucky_ to be accepted into the auror _training_ with their sorry excuses for NEWT scores. After _that_ particular scolding, both of them had worked harder on their modesty to say the least.

 

                It was one of those days when they were just going over case work for the other aurors that Draco Malfoy dropped by their office with all the pretense that he had done it plenty of times before and it wasn’t out of the ordinary in the slightest. If it wasn’t for the nervous twitching of his fingers over his sleeve, Ron would think the git almost believed it too.

 

                Ron hadn’t had the pleasure of running into Malfoy many times since the war ended unlike Harry, who apparently had. He only had a vague memory of that light blond hair passing by him when he had the misfortune of having to turn down Knockturn Alley for something. He didn’t look that much different from the last time he had seen him, though. He’d put on some weight – _but really, he was so skinny before he just finally looked like a normal person_ – and grown into that pointiness he had about him. But that was it, still seemed like the same old Malfoy to Ron.

 

                Before he could even react to the wanker leaning against the open doorway like he owned the place, Harry did. “Malfoy? What’re you – I’m at _work_.” The last part was almost whispered with the way Harry hissed it in frustration. It threw Ron off to say the least; the implication that it was okay for Malfoy to bother Harry when he _wasn’t_ at work.

 

                Malfoy rolled his eyes with that same old smirk he’d had when they were in school – though there was a lot less animosity in it now. “I’m _aware_ , Potter. I wasn’t under the assumption you lived at the Ministry and had your own personal secretary to direct guest to your room – though I wouldn’t be _surprised_ – “

 

                “She’s not _my_ secretary – “ Harry spluttered and tried to cut in but went unheard – more likely ignored.

 

                “Though I can’t imagine you trying to hire for that particular position, with the amount of love potions and undying love confessions that already pile at your door as is.”

 

                “ _Malfoy_ , what’re you doing here?” Harry asked before Malfoy could continue on his ramblings.

 

                Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, but then, for the first time since he’d entered the room, glanced at Ron hesitantly like just now remembering he was there. Ron snorted and gave him a little wave from his desk. It wasn’t like it was anything new. Even back at Hogwarts, him and Harry could go on arguing and fighting paying no mind to anyone else around them. Though there wasn’t as much heat to their words like back then, more like light hearted bickering.

 

                Malfoy gave Ron a small nod in acknowledgement then cocked his head at Harry before stepping out of the room and into the hall. Harry sighed but got up from his desk to follow him out, sparing Ron an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back.”

 

                Ron didn’t know how long they were gone but he’d already lost interest in staring at the closed door and gone back to looking over his case files. Even if he didn’t get to go on the exciting cases like some of his fellow aurors, at least he got a glimpse of what it was like from helping with the paperwork on them. Some aurors were so thorough in their re-telling that Ron almost felt like he was reading a story. He’d been so engrossed in one that when Harry finally came back, he didn’t notice the sappy smile on his face as he sat back down at his desk.

 

                “Sorry about that.”

 

                “Mm?” Ron glanced at him confused, then remembered why Harry had left in the first place. “Oh yeah, what did Malfoy want?”

 

                “He, um… Narcissa.” Harry opened his next case file, not looking at Ron. “She, er, wants me to come visit.”

 

                Ron waited but when Harry didn’t offer up any further explanation, he asked, “What? Why?”

 

                “She hasn’t been feeling well lately,” Harry told him quietly, running a hand through his hair like he often did when he was upset.

 

                Ron looked back to the papers on his desk. He’d probably never know all of the mixed feelings Harry had for Narcissa Malfoy. She’d saved his life and while it hadn’t been _for_ Harry’s sake, Ron could begin to understand the odd little relationship that instance had made for them. He knew they’d shared a few letters over the years to _keep in touch_ as Harry had put it uncertainly one day when Ron had asked.

 

                “Oh. I hope it isn’t anything too serious,” Ron offered albeit a little awkwardly, but he meant it. He didn’t like the Malfoys – even with how easily Harry forgave them once they’d made the effort to redeem themselves since the war – and he didn’t know if he ever would, but the woman _had_ saved his best mate’s life and he wouldn’t ever wish her any ill will. Ron didn’t have the kind of energy to wish bad on anyone really, not anymore. Hermione said that it showed he’d matured, but he just thought he was too tired to bother after everything.

 

                “Yeah, me too.” Harry glanced at him with a sad smile and they both went back their never-ending stacks of folders.

 

                Ron didn’t think anything of it when Harry owled his mother to tell her he wouldn’t be able to make the Weasley Brunch at the Burrow that Sunday.

 

***

               

                It was several weeks later when Harry nudged Ron and nodded his head towards a bloke who was leaning against the bar. “Hey, Ron, who is that talking to Malfoy?”

 

                Ron followed Harry’s eyes and tried to pinpoint where he’d seen him before. He shrugged after a moment. “I don’t know. I think he was in Slytherin our year. Nott or something like that?”

 

                Harry hummed in response and then looked back to Ron and the conversation they’d been having about how Hermione was dealing with her pregnancy. Ron had shrugged off the random question, leaving it at curiosity, but as the hour passed Harry’s eyes kept wandering back to Nott-or-whoever and his shoulders started to gain some tension.

 

                When Harry finally noticed Ron’s stare the seventh time he’d looked over at the bar, he looked at him sheepishly. “What?”

 

                “What’s got you so interested in Nott, Harry?” Ron jerked his head towards the guy, wondering how someone could not feel a glare strong as Harry Potter’s on their back for an hour straight. The bloke was completely oblivious, still carrying on his conversation with Malfoy.

 

                Harry leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes, taking a swig from his drink. He huffed a laugh. “’M not _interested_ in _Nott_ , Ron.”

 

                “Well, I didn’t mean it like _that_ , Harry, and I wouldn’t think so, what with the way you’ve been glaring daggers at his back all night.” Ron glanced over at Nott, who was laughing at something Malfoy – _Malfoy_. “Wait, is it Malfoy you’ve been glaring at? But I thought you two had gotten over – “

 

                Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “We _have_ , Ron. I wasn’t – I just – I wasn’t _glaring_ at either of them.”

 

                Ron raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie. “Harry – “

 

                “I think I’m just a bit tired. I’ve felt agitated all night.” Harry interrupted him and moved his chair, so his back was to the two at the bar. “Look, I won’t pay them any more mind to them the rest of the night.”

 

                Ron wanted to push it a bit more because it was so out of character for Harry to be dogging anyone who wasn’t a reporter these days, but at Harry’s pleading look, he dropped it.

 

                Sometime later, Harry got up to go to the loo and Ron looked over at the bar, wondering if he could pick up on whatever had bothered Harry so much. While it _was_ unusual for Malfoy to be at the pub – Ron hadn’t ever seen him there before and they’d been coming there since they became aurors – there wasn’t anything unusual about how he was _acting_. Though, Ron did think it was a little nauseating to watch Nott-or-whoever flirt so shamelessly with Malfoy; laughing too loudly and touching his arm at every opportunity. Malfoy seemed to be on the same page as Ron if the tension in his face was anything to go by. Ron wondered why he didn’t just leave if he was so uncomfortable, but maybe Malfoy was just trying to salvage one of the lingering friendships he had left; there couldn’t be that many anymore.

 

                Then, Ron wondering why he even _cared_ , let his attention drift somewhere else.

 

                It was quickly brought back, though, when there was a sudden yell and he looked over to see Nott was now drenched in whatever drink he’d had. Malfoy feigned surprise, but Ron could see the git fighting back laughter as Nott fled the bar in embarrassed anger. It looked like Malfoy was meeting someone’s eyes behind him, but Ron forgot all about it when Harry moved back into his seat and started talking about quidditch.

 

 ***

                Over the next few months, Ron and Harry seemed to finally prove themselves because they started getting their own cases. Even if it just started out as checking in on old birds who reported strange noises in the middle of the night, both of them were pretty happy to get away from their desks. Ron was feeling the best he had since the war, like his life was starting to come together. It was probably why he hadn’t noticed something until Hermione pointed it out one night when they were cuddled on the couch.

 

                Ron had just started to doze off when Hermione shifted in his arms and rested her book on her baby bump. He blinked a bleary eye open at her bushy hair under his nose when she spoke up. “I think Harry’s seeing someone.”

 

                “What? No, he’s not, ‘Mione. He would’ve told us.” Ron shrugged her off and went to close his eyes again, but she was persistent and shifted again. Ron fought back a sigh and said goodbye to his cozy evening on the couch.

 

                Hermione turned in his arms slightly so she could meet his eyes. “No, really. I mean, he’s always _busy_ and you said so yourself he seems tired at work, but he still looks _happy_.”

 

                Ron snorted. “Yeah, _I’m_ tired too, Hermione. They’ve been giving us a lot of cases lately. We’re _both_ tired.”

 

                Hermione bit her lip like she always did when she felt like she was onto something. “I don’t think that’s it, though. I know we’ve missed a few over the years, but Harry’s missed the Weasley Brunch the past three Sundays.”

 

                “Oh yeah, I guess he has.” Ron hadn’t thought too much of it. It wasn’t like they could _all_ make it _every_ Sunday, but now that he thought about it, it was strange how many Harry had been missing lately.

 

                Hermione continued on like she was encouraged by Ron’s agreement, “ _And_ when was the last time he invited us over for a dinner or anything?”

 

                “Harry had dinner here just last Wednesday.”

 

                “No, Ron, at _his_ house. I can’t remember. Can you? Don’t you find that a bit odd? Maybe he doesn’t want us seeing it… to stumble upon clothes strewn all over the place, an extra toothbrush…”

 

                Ron chuckled. “I’ll admit it’s been a while, but I think you’re being a bit dramatic, love.”

 

                Hermione ignored him. “The other day ago, when he came over to help with the baby’s room, I could’ve swore I saw a hickie on his neck.”

 

                “ _Scandalous_.” Ron snickered into her hair when she elbowed him.

 

                “ _Ron_ , I’m _serious_.” Hermione turned back to leaning against him and crossed her arms over her chest. After a minute, she sighed. “He seems happier, I just… can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to tell us.”

 

                Ron shrugged, his earlier humor leaving him. He had to admit Hermione had a point and while it might hurt his feelings Harry was hiding someone from them, he could be patient and wait for Harry to be ready to tell them. But it was obviously starting to upset Hermione, so he offered, “Do you want me to talk to him about it?”

 

                But Hermione shook her head. “No, whatever reasons Harry has for it, he has them and we shouldn’t badger him about it. When Harry wants to tell us, he will. As long as he’s happy.”

 

                Ron nodded and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “Alright. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me about that magic link thing you were talking about between mothers and their babies?”

 

                Like he expected, Hermione lit up and grabbed her book. “Well, it’s not a _link_ , but…”

 

 ***

                The winter that year had been more dreadful than usual, and Ron had always been terrible at warming charms. After being out all day in the biting wind, his face was so cold it was probably matching his hair. He’d dug around his desk for that scarf Hermione had made him – _he loved her to death, but the woman definitely did not have a knack for knitting; the scarf was the most misshapen thing he owned, but she’d tried her best and it kept him warm_ – but it wasn’t anywhere in sight. After rummaging through his whole side of the office to no avail, Ron moved on to Harry’s side. No matter how ugly it may be, he _loved_ that scarf and he’d be damned if he didn’t find it.

 

                Thinking Harry might’ve found it on the ground and tossed it in his desk for safekeeping, Ron started opening his drawers. He’d only been looking for his scarf, but when he opened the bottom right drawer, something caught his eye and he paused in his search.

 

                The drawer was _filled_ with envelopes, all bearing the same seal – _the Malfoy crest_. Ron picked one up, seeing the sender read in a cursive script _Draco Malfoy_. Ron kneeled down and looked over the dozens of envelopes expecting at least some of them to say _Narcissa_ , but none of them did.

 

                Ron rationalized that Harry had always been a messy person and maybe Malfoy was one of few people he owled often and maybe he tossed all the empty envelopes in here because his trash was full, and he was too lazy to empty it. But when Ron looked down at the envelope in his hand and realized the _letter_ was still inside and then, that _all_ of the envelopes still had their letters, his flimsy reasoning went out the window.

 

                It was just too weird – too _intimate_ to keep someone’s letters like that. Ron dropped the letter back into the drawer, feeling like he stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have. Then, Hermione’s words from a couple months ago drifted through his head, _stumble upon clothes strewn all over the place…_

 

                Flickers of memories flashed through his head, little moments here and there, then he felt like everything was starting to fall into place.

 

                Ron closed the drawer and cast a locking spell on it that only Harry could pass through, without him even noticing it was there. He tried to put the drawer out of his mind as he stepped away and looked under Harry’s cloak strewn across his chair to find his scarf – he must’ve borrowed it and forgot about it.

 

                He left the office and went home for the night, to Hermione and his house where he didn’t have to think about bloody drawers and mysterious letters.

 

                _When Harry wants to tell us, he will._

_As long as he’s happy._

 

 ***

It was a year later, and Ron felt incredibly humbled as he leaned against the wall in the waiting room of _Intensive Care_ at St. Mungo’s. It hadn’t taken much time after that first official case, for him and Harry to start getting the more serious ones. While they had been more engaging and interesting than pushing quills around on paperwork, they had their drawbacks.

 

                _Like right now._

 

                They’d been ambushed while they were chasing a dark wizard through an old abandoned apothecary and Harry had gotten the bad end of a nasty spell. Ron had a few cuts here and there and would definitely be feeling sore tomorrow, but he was nowhere near as bad as Harry. While he had never lost hope that Harry would pull through, he had started to wonder if _Avada Kedavra_ might’ve been more merciful with the way Harry had been screaming as the mediwizards tried to reverse the damage. He wasn’t even sure if Harry had suffered more from being inside of Voldemort’s head during the war and that was a scary thought in of itself. He didn’t think he’d ever heard his best mate in so much anguish before.

 

                They’d saved him – _barely_ , but they had. They’d told Ron he’d be on bedrest for a couple weeks and probably couldn’t return to the field for another month, but Ron was fine with that as long as he was _alive_. He’d make a full recovery to Ron’s surprise. He’d seen how torn up he’d been – Ron _had_ been the one to carry him in soaked in his own blood – but apparently Harry would be back to himself in just a matter of time.

 

                He’d only told Hermione how close it had been – he didn’t want to worry everyone since Harry was going to be fine anyway. Luckily, his parents were currently visiting Charlie in Romania or else they’d be here poking the exhausted mediwizards with question after question about Harry’s condition. He’d barely managed to keep Hermione at home and that was only with using the excuse of Rosie not needing to be around all of this so young. She’d reluctantly agreed and told him she’d switch off with him in a few hours, so he could _get some bloody rest_ and she’d drop off the baby at Ginny’s.

 

                Harry still hadn’t woken up since he’d passed out from the pain a few hours ago and while Ron wanted to be there when he woke up, it didn’t look like it’d be any time soon and he was starving. He needed to eat something or _he_ was going to pass out and not be there for Harry anyhow.

 

                He started heading to the lobby, remembering a small café he thought he saw when he was led up here. But before he could round the corner, he heard a familiar voice.

 

                “Look, you bloody _cow_ , I am _not_ one of _Harry Potter’s long adoring fans_ waiting for a chance to fall to my knees and kiss his bony feet! Nor am I an unabashed prick from the Prophet sticking my nose into other people’s private lives just to get a picture of the _Boy Who Lived_!” Malfoy yelled at some poor mediwizard, then let out a deep breath and said a bit calmer if not still strained, “I’m – I just want to know how Harry is. Why can’t you just tell me _how_ he is?”

 

                “That is private information, Mr. Malfoy, and seeing as you are not – “

 

                “ _Private information_? I just want to know if he’s fucking alive or not!” Malfoy was starting to sound like he was about to hex his way to Harry’s room if he had to and Ron made his way towards his voice.

               

                His back was to him as he half-pleaded and half-threatened a witch running the front desk in the lobby. Another mediwizard had stepped forward and was trying to calm Malfoy down.

 

                “Sir, I’m sorry we can’t give you information about Mr. Potter. The information about his condition is restricted to family members – “

 

                “Harry Potter doesn’t _have_ a family, you imbecile!”

 

                Ron’s feet stopped in their tracks at the words and he felt any budding warmth for Malfoy start to trickle away as his jaw clenched. How dare – Harry _had_ a _family_ , that snob bastard –

 

                “At least not the family _you’re_ wanting; a blood relative or someone that his name tied to theirs on a bloody roll of parchment.”

 

                Ron’s agitation faded as Malfoy went on and he started towards him again as the git ranted. “Harry had to make his own family and believe it or not – I _know_ you won’t want to, but I _am_ a part of that family and I _demand_ you tell me if he’s alright or not.”

 

                “Mr. Malfoy – “ the mediwizard tried again, but Malfoy must’ve already sensed the argument because he started up again. The fight must’ve started to drain out of him because his voice had more desperate pleading in it than it did hysterical anger.

 

                “Please, just look at his file, at any of the records for when he’s been admitted before. He lists _me_ as his emergency contact right along with his beloved Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. It’s how I’m here in the _first_ place. You bloody people firecalled me to tell me he was in _critical condition_ in _Spell Damage_ but now that I’m _here_ , you won’t tell me anything else!”

 

                “Malfoy!” Ron called out to him when he was just a couple feet away and watched as the mediwizards look at him like he was their own personal savior clad in red robes.

 

                Malfoy turned to him and his shoulders sagged with relief. Ron never would have imagined Draco Malfoy could look so happy to see him, but he there he was. He crossed the distance between them and met his eyes with a frantic look, looking like he was barely managing not to clench Ron’s robes in his hands. “How’s Harry?”

 

                “He’s gonna make it,” Ron finally gave him the answer he’d been waiting for who knows how long.

 

                Malfoy let out a shaky breath at the words and looked so overcome with emotion, Ron almost expected him to drop to the floor. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as his shoulders shook. Ron gave him a moment – _he obviously needed it and Ron wasn’t going to judge him for it_ – and he looked back up at him after a few minutes with a short laugh. He ran his fingers through his hair – under different circumstances, Ron would’ve been amused how similar it was to Harry – and told him loudly gesturing his hands dramatically at him, “ _Thank_ _you_ , Weasley! Merlin, I can imagine how _difficult_ that must’ve been for you to speak those _four_ words.”

 

                He glared over his shoulder at the mediwizards at the front desk and Ron got who that was really directed towards. He knew Malfoy _was_ grateful Ron had found him but that could probably go without saying.

 

“Come on, Malfoy, before you hex anyone. I doubt they’ll let you see Harry then.” Ron grabbed his arm and tugged him back towards the way he came, giving a pointed look towards one of the mediwizards daring one of them to start arguing with _him_. Not many people wanted to go against aurors, least of all Harry Potter or Ron Weasley, and like he expected the mediwizard threw up her hands and huffed in a defeated manner.

 

                Malfoy followed him, letting himself be pulled like a misbehaved child without complaint. It made Ron wonder how much of a shock and panic that firecall had put Malfoy through. He’d never been so bad off for Hermione to get one, so he had no idea how blunt and vague they could be. But he was starting to imagine with how Malfoy looked like he’d been put through the ringer. He had dark shadows under his eyes and his usually perfect hair was a mess and curling at the ends. He still had pajamas on making Ron think he must’ve been trying to see Harry since he got admitted late last night. That was nearly _eight_ hours ago…

 

                “How long was it until _Spell Damage_ told you Harry had been moved to _Intensive Care_ to recover?”

 

                “Two hours and they conveniently left out that he was there to _recover_ , still sticking to their ‘ _Oh, no, we couldn’t possibly tell you if his stupid bleeding Gryffindor heart is beating or not’_.” Malfoy told him in a theatrical voice then, let out a deep breath and waved his hand. “I know I’m an ex-Death Eater and most consider me less than the gunk under their boots, but it’s still incredibly cruel to have someone – to just leave me _wondering_.”

 

                Ron felt a spark of anger on his behalf because that was just bloody ridiculous. Like Malfoy had pointed out earlier, he’d just wanted to know if Harry was okay and hadn’t even gotten as far to ask to _see_ him, which Ron could understand the reluctance of the staff then. But just to hear how he was? After all this was over, he was going to have a few choice words with the Head of St. Mungo’s. It’d be best if it was him because surely when Harry found out, he’d throw a riot with the whole medical community.

 

                “I’m surprised you haven’t been dragged away by aurors by now,” Ron told him honestly. Seeing as how angry Malfoy was earlier and he’d been at it for _hours_?

 

                Malfoy huffed. “Yes, well, I had already come to the same conclusions as you that if I hexed all those blithering idiots, it would just be longer until I found out how Harry was. I can be very diplomatic when I want to. I hadn’t been that angry at the beginning – well, on the _outside_. It’s just… been a long night, Weasley.”

 

                Ron nodded in sympathy as his feet slowed to a stop outside of Harry’s room. “Yeah, it has been.”            

 

                Malfoy stopped with him and glanced between Ron and the closed door. He leaned towards it and then hesitated, looking back to Ron in question. Ron sighed and gave him a small smile, nodding to the door. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m gonna go and try to find something to eat before I faint. If anyone tries to give you any trouble…”

 

                Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk. “Threaten them with the wrath of the almighty Auror Weasley?”

 

                Ron snorted. “Yeah, something like that.” He stepped away as Malfoy’s fingers closed around the door handle, then he heard a low, “Thank you, Weasley.”

 

                Ron looked back to him to see Malfoy giving him a soft smile and he shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

 

                When Ron came back an hour later, he slipped into the room quietly to find Malfoy sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed. He was about to warn him about the stabilizing charms Harry had on him, but realized Malfoy was managing to not touch him. His eyes were intent on Harry and he didn’t look up as Ron took the chair by the bed.

 

                Ron’s eyes flickered between the two with not much else to do and then he noticed Malfoy was wearing one of Harry’s Chudley Canons t-shirts. Ron had kept his mouth shut since he first got the suspicion something was between Harry and Malfoy, but his curiosity was starting to gnaw at him with it all displayed right in front of him. Seeing Malfoy in Harry’s clothes, calling himself family, and watching Harry with such a soft look was a _bit_ strange for Ron even if he wasn’t showing it.

 

                Before Ron could figure out how to broach the subject without just asking it outright – Hermione kept telling him he lacked _tact_ – Malfoy looked over at him and asked, “Did you get seen by a mediwizard, Weasley?”

Ron was surprised by the question but didn’t want to upset their sudden if not situational friendship. He scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, just a few cuts and bruises.”

 

                Malfoy nodded and his eyes fell back to Harry. “What even happened?”

 

                Ron gave him a quick rundown, the most he could tell him just so he could get an idea of how Harry got hurt. He didn’t think Malfoy really cared for what they were doing and why they were there, but Ron didn’t want it to somehow get back to Kingsley that he was sharing details about an ongoing investigation with a civilian.

 

                All he asked was, “Did you catch them?”

 

                It was something Ron couldn’t stop thinking about since they’d left that blasted apothecary, but he’d decided to stay with Harry instead of joining his fellow aurors in going after the bastard. “I don’t know honestly, but the backup had a pretty easy trail to follow. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was locked up at the Ministry right now.” 

 

                Malfoy’s jaw clenched but then he sighed and let the subject drop with a short nod.        

 

                They were quiet for a while and Ron just eventually had to state the obvious, forgetting all about Hermione and her _tact_. “So, you and Harry?”

 

                Malfoy tensed on the bed. It was barely noticeable, but Ron caught it and almost felt bad for bring it up. But only almost. He confirmed it with a simple, “Yes.”

 

                Ron nodded and followed up with, “How long?”

 

                “Three years.”

 

                “Three _years_?” Ron all but shouted. _Three years!?_ Harry had hidden this from them for _three years?_ “Bloody hell.”

 

                Malfoy winced and at least looked a little guilty. “I know – I – Harry had been so stressed out over how to tell you and Granger and I told him to just wait until the right moment and he…”

 

                Ron wasn’t going to say it was okay even though he could understand. “Never found the _right moment_ for two years?”

 

                Malfoy sighed and finally looked over at him. Either Ron’s emotions were displayed clearly right on his face or Malfoy already had an idea of how he’d react, because he gave him a shrug that Ron figured was the only apology he was going to get from the git. It was probably a mix of both. “Harry wanted to tell you. It’s always bothered him that you two don’t know about us. But the longer he waited, the worse he thought your reaction would be and so on…”

 

                Ron snorted and leaned back in his chair, looking over at Harry’s sleeping face. _What had he thought he was going to do? Forbid him and start a riot for the Malfoy Manor?_ He crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh. He couldn’t say he was _that_ upset since he’d had time to get used to the idea and like Harry reminded him, Malfoy had grown a lot since the war. Hermione would probably be sour over it for a while, but only because it’d been a secret. Really, Harry had dug his own grave with that one.

 

                “He should’ve just sucked it up and told us. I found out a year ago anyway.” Ron couldn’t help his proud grin when Malfoy looked at him in disbelief.

 

                “Really?”

 

                Ron nodded and then saw the opportunity to embarrass his best mate. “Yeah. Did you know he keeps all your letters? Has them in his desk drawer at work.”

 

                Malfoy blushed faintly and his eyes wandered back to Harry. “Bloody sap."

 

                Ron chuckled and made himself more comfortable in his chair to wait the night in. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while and Ron knew it would take more than this for him and Malfoy to ever become something resembling friends. But he knew it would happen eventually and hell, maybe even time they would be good friends.

 

                He noticed Malfoy catch himself for the third time in the past hour, reaching out for Harry. It was only to hold his hand or lay hand comfortingly on his leg even though Harry was dead asleep. He sighed every time he did like it made him sad. It gave Ron the impression that behind closed doors, they were probably very affectionate with each other. While Ron might’ve had a few choice words to say about it if he was suddenly fifteen again, it only made him smile now.

 

                Yeah, he was pretty sure he could be friends with Malfoy.

 

                _As long as Harry was happy._

 

*** 

 

                If Ron had needed any more confirmation that the feelings were mutual, Harry’s eyes landing on Malfoy after waking up and letting out a soft sigh of “ _Draco_ ” was it. Ron hadn’t thought Malfoy had been that tense, but the way he visibly relaxed once Harry smiled at him made Ron reconsider.

 

                Malfoy had simply reached out and patted his cheek with a relieved smile. “You bloody idiot, do you have any idea how worried I was?” The angry words kind of lost their effect with the warm look he was giving Harry, but Ron’d bet his paycheck Harry would be getting a good lashing from Malfoy once the relief of Harry waking up wore off.

 

                Harry looked at him sheepishly and shrugged a shoulder as he reached up to wrap his hand around Malfoy’s. “I’m sorry, Draco.” He was about to say more and then, his eyes caught sight of Ron to the side and widened.

 

                “Ron – “

 

                Ron held back a laugh at Harry glancing back to Malfoy, though he didn’t make any effort to drop his hand. “Hey, mate, how’re you feeling?”

               

                “Fine,” Harry answered him and Ron could hear the underlying nervousness in it.

 

Then – _finally_ – Harry told him awkwardly, “So, er, I’m dating Malfoy.”

 

                Ron barked a laugh and raised his eyebrows at him. “Yeah, I can see that, Harry.”

 

                Harry blushed and Malfoy rolled his eyes looking like he was holding back his own laughter.

 

                Ron grinned and figured everything was going to be just fine.

 

                _At least if Hermione didn’t hex them all for letting her be the last to know._


End file.
